


The Wolf and the Stag: Hogwarts’ Unregistered Animagi Chronicles

by everyl1ttleth1ng



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, F/M, Gendry and Arya go to Hogwarts, Gendrya - Freeform, Hogwarts, and they're, because of the wolf and the stag thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22878559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyl1ttleth1ng/pseuds/everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: Ottery St. Catchpole, the magical community made up of modest family homes like The Burrow and more impressive estates like Winterfell and Storm’s End, was an idyllic place for young witches and wizards to grow up. Most adults turned a blind eye to their kids whizzing about on their pilfered brooms and casually left spell books lying around as a matter of course. So if two enterprising young people taught themselves to become Animagi long before the arrival of their Hogwarts letters without a single responsible adult being any the wiser, to whom could the blame be apportioned?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 35
Kudos: 99





	1. Arya's First Year at Hogwarts

Ottery St. Catchpole, the magical community made up of modest family homes like  _ The Burrow _ and more impressive estates like  _ Winterfell  _ and  _ Storm’s End _ , was an idyllic place for young witches and wizards to grow up. Most adults turned a blind eye to their kids whizzing about on their pilfered brooms and casually left spell books lying around as a matter of course. So if two enterprising young people taught themselves to become Animagi long before the arrival of their Hogwarts letters without a single responsible adult being any the wiser, to whom could the blame be apportioned?

It had been somewhat of a blow to Robert Baratheon when two years earlier his strapping son, Gendry, had been sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Gryffindor, even if the boy’s house scarf did perfectly match the family crest. At least he felt better about that than the fact that his other three more,  _ ahem _ , legitimate offspring had been sorted into the closest thing Beauxbatons had to Slytherin.

Catelyn and Ned Stark had now amassed such a tangle of various house-coloured uniform items that the fact of their younger daughter, Arya, being sorted into Gryffindor, now that she’d  _ finally _ followed her best friend to Hogwarts, barely elicited an interested nod from either of them. However, Jon, the sole Gryffindor amongst her siblings, had appreciated the news, and that was all that mattered to Arya.

That first night at school, long after the feast was over and the first years were snoring behind their drapes in their newly appointed four-poster beds scattered about the castle, a wolf padded stealthily across the lawn towards the Forbidden Forest. Waiting for her in the shadows was an enormous stag, the span of his antlers impressive for one not yet fully grown.

The two animals travelled deep into the forest before they silently transformed into their human form - one male, one female. The boy grew taller even than the apex of his antlers whereas the girl would not have attained the point she could reach as a wolf standing on her hind legs.

Though they were restored to their humanity, neither of them seemed to feel it necessary to speak, continuing to rely for some time longer on the non-verbal cues they used in their animal form as they trudged deeper into the forest.

It was the boy who spoke first. “At least your parents won’t be annoyed like my Dad was.”

“I had wondered about that,” the girl replied. “But didn’t Shireen get sorted into Hufflepuff too? You’re not the only Baratheon not to be a Gryffindor.”

“I’m not even a Baratheon,” said the boy dully. “But he would have liked me to be a Gryffindor anyway. How will your family feel when they hear about it?”

“Robb and Jon had a bet going.” The girl laughed. “Robb’s losing big ‘cause I didn’t get sorted into Slytherin.”

The boy didn’t speak but she appreciated his prickled sense of outrage at the mere suggestion.

“I am sad about one thing, Gendry,” she said after they’d emerged into a suitable clearing. “After all this time apart since you started school, I’d hoped you and I would at least get to hang out in the same common room and eat at the same table in the Great Hall.”

“That’s why we brought the tent,” he replied, shrugging a small backpack off his shoulders. “And given that Arya Stark of Winterfell only gets the very best for her birthday...”

She smiled up at him. “Our very own common room.”

The two of them stood back a way as Gendry threw the tent onto the ground in front of them. 

It didn’t look like much more than a puddle of beige canvas at first, but that was the wonder of wizard tents - utterly unassuming from the outside.

Arya pulled out her wand and raised the tent as she’d learned on family holidays, watching with a little smile as it seemed to self-inflate, guy ropes flying out and tethering themselves to shining pegs in the uneven ground. Gendry wouldn’t have to bend his head too far to get in but other than that it appeared as any other ordinary piece of camping equipment.

She indicated with a point of her wand for Gendry to enter.

“No, after you, m’lady,” he insisted with a playful mocking bow.

She thwacked him soundly as she strode into the tent, dramatically swishing the flaps aside.

Even Arya Stark had to gasp at what she saw.

The entrance was grand - all exposed stone and rough-hewn wood with an imposing candle-lit chandelier hanging in the centre that lit the space with a flickering warmth. Large wooden doors stood directly opposite the entrance and two staircases ascended to the next floor on either side of the entrance hall.

“This will do nicely,” she observed, working hard to keep her tone nonchalant after her initial surprise. She didn’t want Gendry getting too big for his boots.

“Don’t make your judgement yet,” he urged, pulling the tent flaps back across the entrance to stop the light from spilling out into the forest. “Wait ’til I’ve given you the tour!”

He half jogged across the expansive foyer and wrenched open the double doors, standing to one side to once more allow Arya entry ahead of him.

Still endeavouring not to reveal how impressed she was, Arya strode into the large room she knew Gendry had spent no small part of his summer holidays dreaming up. One glance around her and all her pretence slipped away.

“Gendry?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Arya felt him grinning over her shoulder.

“You like it, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let it go to my head.”

“It’s a bit like home,” she sighed, wandering into the room and running her hand across the back of the huge couch that reminded her of the one in her favourite den at Winterfell.

“I knew you’d never say it out loud,” said Gendry quietly, “but I knew you’d miss it.”

“It’s perfect.” She looked up at him. “What about your place? Aren’t there things you miss about Storm’s End?”

Gendry shrugged. “After two years, I’m pretty used to Hogwarts. Besides, your place has always felt more like home to me than mine.”

All of a sudden, Arya threw her arms around Gendry’s neck, standing on tiptoe to squeeze him tight.

Gendry felt the flush creep up his face as he bent down to return her hug. He was further rewarded by a brief press of her lips against his cheek. Having Arya at Hogwarts at last was possibly going to be more complicated than he’d anticipated.

“What’s upstairs?” she asked eagerly, pulling away from him.

“We each get our own bedroom for when we need to escape our dorms.”

“With open fireplaces?”

He nodded, smiling. “And a massive en-suite each so you can soak in the bath after Quidditch training.”

“I better make the team,” she said, biting her lower lip anxiously. “I’ve only been dreaming of playing Chaser for Gryffindor since I was four. Robb will never let me live it down if I’m the first Stark not to play Quidditch for my house in first year.”

“Making the team is your first challenge,” he laughed. “Getting anything past me will be where you  _ really _ meet your match.”

“But everyone knows Hufflepuffs are too friendly to put up anything like an aggressive defence,” she retorted, skipping out of his reach.

“Come back here and say how friendly I am,” Gendry shot back, laughing as he lunged for her. “I’ll show you an aggressive defence.”

Arya sprinted up the staircase and ducked into the first door she came to, Gendry hot on her heels.

“This is your room?” she asked, turning on the spot in the middle of the polished floorboards, taking everything in.

Gendry momentarily forgot that he’d lumbered up the stairs to give chase.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing around, pleased with his work. “What do you think?”

Arya ran a hand over the dark mahogany bedhead, hand-carved by Gendry to resemble stag horns.

“You’re really good at this stuff, you know?” she said. “Muggles call this art.”

“Thanks,” muttered Gendry, rubbing at the back of his neck, conscious once more of that warmth creeping up his throat.

“Now I want to see my room!” she cried, pushing past him to run to the next door. She yanked it open and wandered inside open-mouthed.

Where the downstairs room was a loving tribute to the den at Winterfell, her room was an exact replica of her bedroom at home.

“I didn’t even know you’d been in my room,” Arya breathed. Ned and Catelyn had a strict “no boys in the girls’ rooms” policy that Gendry had never previously been brave enough to ignore despite Arya’s utter disregard for the house rules.

He looked at the floor rather than meet her eye.

“Jon knew what I was up to,” he said quietly. “He let me in a few times when no one else was home.”

She flopped into the wooden chair at the large desk by the window and looked at Gendry. “You made all this by hand?”

He nodded.

“For me?”

He shrugged. “Who else?”

“You’re the best friend, you know,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Gendry bashfully.

Arya surveyed the detail he’d painstakingly replicated, even down to family photos, until she finally spotted one item out of place.

She held up the framed photo of her and Gendry, his arm slung casually around her shoulders while their moving forms pulled ugly face after ugly face at the camera.

“This is new,” she observed quietly. “I don’t think I have any photos of you in my room at home.”

“An oversight I took the opportunity to rectify,” Gendry replied. “Can’t have you moping about the place ‘cause you miss my face.”

Arya laughed. “I’m hardly going to have a chance to miss your face anymore, am I?” she shot back. “I’m going to see you every single day. Besides, when I’m in here looking at your ugly mug in the frame, the real thing will be in the very next room.”

Gendry looked at the floor. “I’ve missed your face while I’ve been here without you the last couple of years,” he said quietly. “Wish I’d had one of those in my room. Might have meant everyone could have eased up on calling me grouchy all the time.”

Arya nudged him in the ribs, not without affection. “Nah,” she said. “You’ll still be grouchy now that I’m here. I’m a right pain in your arse, remember?”

Gendry grinned. “How could I forget?”

“I’ll make sure to remind you anyway,” Arya promised. “Every chance I get.”

She turned on her heel and swanned out the door.

Gendry lingered a little while, looking at their photo and grinning to himself. At last, now he’d been reunited with the one he secretly thought of as his other half, his magical education could begin in earnest. All his schemes improved exponentially the minute Arya Stark got involved.


	2. Arya's Second Year at Hogwarts

It was the last Hogsmeade visit of the year for those in third year and above and Arya was stuck alone in their tent palace “studying”. It wasn’t that she wasn’t  _ trying _ to study - she had her Potions notes diligently spread out all over the couch - it was just that without Gendry there, without his furious determination to prove himself by getting the best marks the extended Baratheon clan had ever seen, she lacked focus. 

Arya could do anything she put her mind to, she’d proved that time and time again. She had just never been that good at self-discipline when it came to things she didn’t particularly  _ want _ to do, and swotting for her yearly Potions exam definitely fell into the category of things she didn’t particularly want to do.

Managing to keep their private common room hidden for two whole years had been thanks to study that Arya had felt very motivated to do. Gendry kept telling her that the range of Muffliato charms and Disillusionment charms she’d perfected since they’d first pitched the tent put her security skills on par with that of an Auror. She kept telling him that he was stupid but she was always secretly chuffed. So when the chime she’d adapted from a Caterwauling Charm began to sound quietly within the confines of their tent, telling her someone or something was approaching the area, she grinned to herself.  _ No one _ could find their way in, she felt certain of that. 

It couldn’t be Gendry getting back because he still had hours ahead in which he could enjoy Hogsmeade, hours in which he could hang out with his fourth year friends and his Quidditch team mates and hours in which those flirtatious Hufflepuff girls could be batting their stupid eyelids at him. He’d even dressed extra nicely. Arya had seen him hurrying out of the castle in that blue shirt with the black buttons her parents had given him, that one that made his stupid blue eyes look even bluer. He’d be gone ages once the Hufflepuff girls caught a glimpse of him in that. In fact, she thought dejectedly, she had so much quiet study time yawning ahead of her that it really wasn’t funny. 

But why was her warning chime still persistently sounding? Why hadn’t the person or creature been put off by her Disillusionment charms? 

Arya got off the couch, letting her Potions notes drift to the floor, and walked tentatively towards the front entrance. Was this about to be their first security breach? 

She reached into her back pocket and drew out her wand but before she was halfway across the foyer, the tent flaps swished aside and in strode Gendry, his large arms full.

Arya stood and stared at him, still brandishing her wand. 

“What are you doing back already?” she asked warily.

Gendry held up three massive bags of Honeydukes sweets and a few bottles of Butterbeer. “I only went to Hogsmeade for a few things,” he replied, grinning. “Study snacks to keep us going! How’s Potions coming along?” His eyes dropped to her wand. “Or have you switched to Charms?”

“You didn’t even have time to sit down at the The Three Broomsticks,” Arya said quietly, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You were barely there at all.”

“I jogged there and back.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to leave you alone too long in case you started climbing the walls without company. But I have Salt Water Taffy and Jelly Slugs!”

“And Licorice Wands?” she asked, barely able to believe what she was hearing.

Gendry walked past her shaking his head. “You ask that like I don’t know you at all,” he chuckled. “As if Arya Stark can even pretend to study without a steady supply of Licorice Wands.”

Arya turned slowly and followed him back into the lounge room. 

He stood surveying the sea of paper spread all over the floor. 

“I see you’ve made a promising start,” he laughed.

“I can’t get anything done without you, Gendry” she said sheepishly. “You know that.”

He turned his amused gaze on her. “I feel like you could survive all the worst kinds of torture, Arya, and keep all your secrets,” he said. “But bring you a bag of sweets and you’ll admit to anything.”

“Just shut up and throw me the licorice,” Arya muttered, flopping back onto the couch.

Gendry tossed her one of the bags and then, throwing the rest on the table in front of them, stretched ostentatiously, pretending to limber up. 

“Never fear, Lady Stark,” he said, affecting a pompous accent. “I’m here now. Your studying can begin in earnest.”

Arya hit him with a Licorice Wand right between the eyes.

It was dark by the time they decided to pack up and call it a night. 

“Have you ever let anyone ride on your back?” Arya asked, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye as she shoved bundles of notes into her backpack.

Gendry looked back at her in surprise. “You’re the only one who knows,” he replied. “Who else could have tried it?”

“Will you give me a ride back through the forest?” she asked eagerly. “I’ve barely grown since I got here, I won’t weigh very much!”

Gendry looked her up and down in a way that made her cheeks flush.

“Oh, you’ve grown,” he countered. He suddenly turned to gather up some books from a pile on the floor. “But I don’t think it’ll make any difference to me once I’ve transformed.”

“So you will?” 

Gendry shrugged, heading for the entrance. “Okay, I guess… Just make sure you don’t have any sweets in your mouth. Salt Water Taffy would be hell to get out of my mane.”

With her backpack finally full, Arya wandered out to where Gendry was waiting for her.

“Seeing as we’re doing this,” he said tentatively, “can I ask you a weird favour?”

“Go on then,” Arya replied.

“You’re gonna laugh.”

“Probably.”

“Whenever I transform, the one thing I wish is that someone would give me a really good scratch,” Gendry lifted his chin, “right here, under my muzzle, you know?”

Arya’s explosion of laughter left Gendry looking squarely at the ground.

“I’m so glad you said that!” she hooted and Gendry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“The first thing I think when I transform is how much I wish someone would ruffle the fur behind my ears and rub my belly and scratch my lower back.”

“Huh,” said Gendry grinning. “I don’t remember reading this stuff listed among the challenges of becoming an Animagi!”

“Come on,” Arya said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You are going to be in love with me by the time we get back to the castle.”

Gendry watched her a moment with an odd sort of a look in his eye until Arya pushed him through the tent flaps and performed the charms she always used to secure the tent.

That done, she turned her attention back to Gendry. 

“So, are you going to transform or what?”

Before she knew it, she was looking at a magnificent beast regarding her with his large, liquid eyes, his white-tipped antlers glowing in the moonlight. 

He was breathtaking.

He dropped his head and lowered himself onto his front legs to allow Arya to scramble onto his back. It took her a moment to get into a good position, straddling his massive haunches. Only once he felt her go still, he rose slowly up to his full height.

She leaned forward, pressing her torso against the stag’s massive neck, and slid her arms under his throat. She had to strain to reach the soft skin under his muzzle but she began to lightly scratch and the stag’s head tipped back, just as Gendry’s head had tipped back at the thought of it, his shining dark eyes falling closed as she raked her fingernails back and forth.

Arya pulled her hands a little closer to her body and her fingers disappeared into the shaggy, grizzled mane that grew thick across his strapping chest. 

The stag let out a little puff of sound that told her her ministrations were everything he hoped they would be.

Eventually, he took a step forward and then another, giving her a moment to steady herself and get a strong grip of his mane before he really took off.

Arya whooped with glee, leaning right back as the beast beneath her broke into a gallop, dashing across the broken roots and rocky terrain of the Forbidden Forest in the dappled moonlight. 

Once she’d adjusted to the pace at which he ran and established how to hold herself on firmly with her legs, she leant forward against his strong neck once more and returned to scratching his woolly coat, entwining her fingers with his thick fur.

Before she thought it could be possible, Arya could see the edge of the forest drawing nearer and the imposing silhouette of the castle looming ahead of them.

And then she was no longer riding a majestic stag but instead, receiving a piggy-back from her best friend, and the backpack he wore between herself and his back was even less awkward than the fact that her skinny wrists were each trapped between the black buttons of his shirt and her hands were pressed against his bare chest.

“Oh!” was all she could think to say. 

“Err, I can’t help you with my buttons without putting you down,” he murmured.

“And I can’t get my arms from around your neck without freeing my hands,” she replied, pulling her elbows back slightly to prove her point.

Gendry looked around until he found a tree stump he could set her down on while he wordlessly unbuttoned his shirt to let her free.

Arya withdrew her hands regretfully, unable to resist lightly running them over his strong shoulders, and rested them in her lap while he quietly did up his buttons, neither of them quite meeting one another’s eye.

He turned to face where she remained perched on the tree stump as he fiddled with his last button.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes still downcast, “for erm… for that.”

“It felt good then?” she asked and immediately regretted it. It felt too private a question to ask.

He nodded vigorously but didn’t seem able to form words.

She had to think of something to say. 

“We could do that again sometime then?” was all that came to her, not only to fill the silence, but also because she really, really wanted to do it again, whenever she got the chance.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “Anytime.” He raised his gaze ever so slightly so that he almost met her eye.

“Shame I can’t return the favour,” she said and, to her relief, Gendry laughed.

“Riding a stag at your size is one thing,” he said, “riding a wolf at my size is quite another.”

“It’d be comical, for sure,” she agreed. “Your feet would drag along the ground.”

He smiled at her a moment, his eyes soft.

“We better get back up to the castle,” he whispered. “We’ve got another big day of study ahead of us.”

“I guess,” Arya whispered back, suddenly looking forward to the following day, even if it meant swotting for her Potions exam.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her into the shadows along the edge of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you nicely encouraged me so I wrote some more! Not one chapter but two! See? Sometimes being nice to fanfic writers pays off!


	3. Arya's Third Year at Hogwarts

Gendry had been watching Arya nearly fall asleep into her golden plate over at the Gryffindor table for ten minutes now and yet somehow she was just managing to hold her head upright. He didn’t think she’d eaten anything despite the mountains of food around her and that was so unlike her that he was actually worried. 

He knew it had been a mistake for her to get into a snowball fight with all those Muggle kids in Hogsmeade the day before, especially the few really snotty, sneezing ones, but telling Arya not to do something only resulted in her doing it more enthusiastically and for much longer. 

So it was his fault, really, that she’d caught some awful Muggle illness because he knew her and he should have known to keep out of it.

He began pilfering chicken legs off the platter in front of him and gathering them into a clean, stag-embroidered handkerchief his father had sent him. He tended to shove them in his pockets for moments like these.

Gendry ignored the mutterings around him as he pocketed his parcel of food and pushed himself out of his seat, knowing his fellow Hufflepuffs were teasing him for not being able to take his eyes off a certain Gryffindor, but he couldn’t care less. Arya was sick and she needed his help.

He made his way over to her, every eye in the Great Hall drawn to his hulking form as he navigated between the house tables. 

When he got to her side, he crouched down, as if that could somehow hide them from the prying gaze of the rest of the school.

“Arya, you look terrible,” he whispered.

“Gee, thanks, Gendy,” she muttered, leaning so far back in her seat to talk to him that she could rest her head against his shoulder. “You’re a real charmer, you know that?”

“Let’s get you up to your bed,” he urged. “You look like you’re in danger of collapsing any moment.”

“I am not,” she retorted, trying to straighten up but swaying a little. “ _ You _ might collapse though, Gendry. You would.”

Ignoring her pathetic attempt to insult him - that she couldn’t come up with anything more hurtful yet further evidence of just how sick she was - Gendry steeled himself to manipulate Arya into doing what he wanted.

“You’re so lame the way you just sit at your house table like a good girl until you’ve finished all your dinner,” he muttered, playing up his accusing tone. “Here I was thinking you’d be up for an adventure tonight, somewhere out of bounds like a badass, but you’re just going to follow the rules like always. Typical.”

Arya was staggering to her feet in seconds. 

He had her.

He stalked away without looking back, knowing that even if she had to crawl her way out of the hall, she’d never let him get away with speaking to her like that. She always had to have the last word.

He waited out of sight of everyone who now, no doubt, were watching Arya go, making snide comments about how the two of them should just up and get married already.

At last she stumbled out of the doors and fixed her angry gaze on him.

“So you are coming after all?” he asked. “Didn’t think you were game.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“We better be quick then,” he whispered. “Race you up the stairs!”

With that Gendry took off at a sprint and then stopped about twenty steps up the staircase to turn back and look at Arya floundering at the bottom.

She looked up at him plaintively and he could see the resignation in her grey eyes. 

He had finally broken her.

He jogged back to where she was half-crouched over the third stair from the bottom and gently put his arm around her. 

“And you call me stubborn! Will you let me help you now?” Gendry whispered.

Arya nodded slowly, her expression contrite.

“What do you need?”

“I sleep better as a wolf when I’m sick,” she snuffled finally. “I used to sneak downstairs and snuggle up to Nymeria. One good night’s sleep as a wolf and I usually wake up cured. The only thing is, when I’m sick, sometimes I sleepwalk. I’d wake up cured but I’d be half-way out in a field in the middle of a snowdrift.”

“A sick, sleep-walking wolf, hey?” sighed Gendry. “Nothing is ever straightforward with you, is it?”

Arya shrugged apologetically.

“You better not sleep in your dorm then. Even Gryffindors have their limit.”

“Where will I go?”

Gendry stood up and peered out the window into the snow, wondering if it would be worth trying to get to their tent in the forest. Thick curtains of snowflakes were still falling heavily. He shook his head. 

“We’re not going out in that,” he said decisively. He crouched beside her again, slipping his strong arms underneath her and lifting her easily. “You’ll just have to come and sleep in my bed so I can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t wander off.”

He moved quickly past the kitchens, unperturbed by Arya’s slight weight, wanting to be well out of sight of students eventually spilling out of the hall after dinner. 

He found the right barrell, tapped the right rhythm and the tunnel into the Hufflepuff Common Room opened up before him. 

Gendry carried Arya down the sloping, earthy passage and back upwards a little way until they emerged into the cosy, round, low-ceilinged room that was his House Common Room. He glanced about the cheerful, round, yellow and black room to make sure no one saw them, trying not to trip over any cactii or kick over any ferns as he went, and then headed for the highly polished, honey-coloured, round wooden door which led to the boys’ dormitories. 

As he backed through the door, trying not to knock Arya’s head on the doorframe, from the portrait over the wooden mantelpiece, which was carved all over with decorative dancing badgers, Helga Hufflepuff, seemed to be toasting him with her tiny, two-handled golden cup, for being such a good friend.

Gendry had been provided with a larger than normal bed since his first year at Hogwarts to save him from having to sleep with his feet poking out from under his patchwork quilt at the end of the mattress. He deftly drew the heavy yellow velvet curtain around his bed and, imitating Arya, performed a quick Muffliato charm so that none of his Hufflepuff dorm-mates would hear her congested breathing overnight. 

He lowered her carefully onto the bed and said, “Quick, let me get you something to wear so you can change before anyone comes in.” 

He tossed her a pair of his flannel pyjamas and ducked back out into the common room while she changed.

When Gendry returned, he took it as another sign of just how sick Arya was that she didn’t even make a joke about how far the cuffs of his pyjama sleeves extended beyond her wrists.

He refrained from commenting on the fact that she’d neglected to put on the matching flannel trousers. He supposed they would never have stayed up anyway and, as it was, the hem of his flannel top hung around her knees.

“I grabbed some food for you,” Gendry said. “I think you should eat before you sleep.”

Arya nodded dumbly, obediently shaking her hands out of the over-long sleeves and consuming chicken leg after chicken leg as he patiently handed them to her.

Once he was satisfied that she’d eaten a decent dinner, Gendry encouraged Arya to get some sleep.

She nodded again and before he knew it, a massive silver wolf was padding in a circle in the middle of his bed, like an oversized pet dog, pressing out the bed coverings beneath her paws so she could settle down to sleep.

Once she’d gotten comfortable, Gendry settled in beside her and reached out to gently scratch behind her pointed ears.

When he went to draw his fingers away and let her sleep, the wolf pushed her head into his hands, chasing his attention.

Remembering what the Winterfell pets were like, Gendry slid back along the mattress, propped himself up against the bedhead with a couple of pillows and then patted his lap looking meaningfully at the wolf.

She stood on her four paws and stalked up the mattress towards him, her head as high as his while sitting up. She padded around in a circle again until she settled her weight beside him with her head resting comfortably in his lap.

Gendry reached down to scratch her lower back and laughed to himself as her back paw quivered in time with the raking of his short nails against her hide. Almost as if it were Nymeria snuggling up to him, as she often did when he visited Winterfell, the wolf rolled over, exposing her pale pink underside to him, asking for a belly rub.

He remembered Arya’s surprise the first time she’d seen Nymeria allow herself to be so undignified and vulnerable with Gendry. 

“She really trusts you now,” she’d observed to him quietly. “She’s just claimed you as one of her pack.”

The same sense of pride and belonging that had flooded him then filled him once again.

It felt good to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Arya thought of him as one of her pack.

A few times in the night, Gendry was awoken by a sense that the wolf was about to dive off his bed and go wandering and each time he’d soothed her with his strong hands, gently tangling in her fur, easing her back to snuggle once more into his side. Each time she’d willingly returned to him, once even dragging her rough pink tongue over the soft stubble on his throat as if in apology for waking him. He’d chuckled to himself as she settled her wolf head on one of his pillows and he’d pulled the covers up over them both, laughing at how human Arya remained even while thoroughly wolf.

It was the morning that held the biggest surprise, a surprise that Gendry was utterly unprepared for.

He felt groggy as he woke, aware of just how broken his sleep had been. He took the arm that he’d thrown over his head in his sleep and reached across his body, expecting to bury his hand in coarse silver fur.

Instead, his fingertips met warm skin.

His eyes snapped open and he found that where he had anticipated finding a gigantic wolf, he was instead confronted with Arya.

As his consciousness extended to take in his whole body, he realised her bare legs were intertwined with his pyjama-clad ones beneath the covers.

He let his eyes travel over her as she slept. 

She was so tiny, the collar of his flannel pyjama top had slipped down to reveal the peachy skin of her shoulder which was where his fingers had blindly made contact.

Arya lay facing him, her head nestled on his pillow only inches away.

Her face looked peaceful, framed by her dark hair, and her breathing at last sounded deep and even.

Gendry allowed himself to lightly trace the curve of her bare shoulder with his calloused fingertips.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed his friend was beautiful, in fact, he thought he probably knew that better than anyone. But Arya wasn’t exactly soft and she certainly wasn’t sentimental. Gendry knew he was both, especially when it came to her.

Just as he lifted his hand from her shoulder, Arya’s eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” he whispered. “Feeling better?”

She smiled softly and nodded. “Thank you for looking after me, Gendry. Sorry I was a pain.”

“You’re always a pain,” he replied. “That’s your thing, remember?”

She grinned at him. “Oh, yeah. I take that apology back.” She surreptitiously disentangled her legs from Gendry’s and he felt the loss of her warmth.

“How deep do you reckon the snow is this morning?” she murmured, pushing herself up to lean against the bedhead.

“Deep enough that I’d probably lose a squirt like you in it,” Gendry replied, gazing up at her.

“But you’d dig me out again, right?” she asked grinning.

Gendry grinned back. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My description of the Hufflepuff Common Room and how to get there was mostly plagiarised from JK Rowling here:  
> https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/hufflepuff-common-room
> 
> Hope you enjoyed these slightly weird little one-shots. So far Arya’s in second year and Gendry’s in fourth year. Will there be more? Oh, probably because I’m weak...

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don’t know… I have a problem...


End file.
